


The Planet of the Storytellers

by Robyn_Goodfellow



Category: Le Petit Prince | The Little Prince - Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 18:57:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5101979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robyn_Goodfellow/pseuds/Robyn_Goodfellow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Little Prince travels to a new planet in search of wisdom. He finds a planet where they write the stories of the universe. A continuation of the book by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Planet of the Storytellers

He flew across the stars visiting many planets and learning what they had in store for him. He had not visited this area of the galaxy just yet. It was as unknown to him as his roses’ intentions. She was still not “speaking” with the little prince. He landed on a planet that was a beautiful shade of blue and green. There were six large continents and a few islands. The world was interesting to behold from above. On the North Pole sat the sun, beating down on a land that looked so hot it would be uninhabitable. The South Pole was covered in ice. There wasn’t much sunlight getting down there. He landed just outside of what looked like a major city and there was already some of the native species ready to greet him.  
“Hello. We are the Storytellers. Welcome, young man, to our world.”  
“Hello.” The little prince responded shyly. These people looked somewhat like him except they had three arms, their eyes were much bigger than any other person he had met, and they spoke in turn. On many other worlds the people would be running over each other to speak.  
“How can we help you, little man?” Asked another of the species.  
“I would like to learn about your world and what you do on it. For instance, why are you called the ‘Storytellers’?” He asked.  
“We are called that because that is what we do. We are here to tell the stories of the universe. We receive them and then we write them. It is our job and duty to do that for the universe.”  
“Do you know my story?” Asked the little prince.  
“We do not. You are young, we receive a person’s story only after they have lived their full life. We spend many months in seclusion writing down a persons’ story. It is the only way to guarantee that their story is never forgotten.”  
“I have been to many planets and met many people and most of them believe that as soon as they die they will be forgotten. That their memory will just disappear.”  
“Oh, young one. No one is ever truly forgotten. Every hundred years or so, we have a reading. The reading of memories that may have been forgotten by their people. When we read those memories, those stories, the memories return for a short while to those in need. We are the way of remembering.”  
“So you help people who have forgotten something important, remember it again?”  
“Yes, that is one of our jobs.”  
“What else do you do here?” The little prince was becoming more comfortable with these strange people.  
“Please come to our main city, Livre, and we will show you what we do. As I said, the reading only takes place every hundred years, the bulk of our time is used in writing those stories that come to us.” The little prince followed the leader to the city. It was huge, a gleaming bronze colored city. The buildings were not as tall as the skyscrapers of Earth, they were small and plenty. The city was full of them. “My name is Kristain. I am the mayor of this city. What may we call you?”  
“Most people just call me Little Prince. I don’t really know why. But I have come to use that as my name.”  
“Very well, Little Prince. This building here is for isolation. When a person’s story comes to us, it is assigned and the writer that it is assigned to goes into one of the rooms in this city and begins to write.”  
“Where do you keep all of the books? They have to be stored somewhere right?”  
“Yes. They are on a different continent. This is the continent of the Pen. The books are kept across the ocean of Ice on the continent of Creativity.”  
“So do you only write the stories of the universe?”  
“No, Little Prince.” Kristain chuckled. “We have creative minds here. There is only a small portion of the population that writes the serious stories.”  
“How do you know who writes what?”  
“From a very young age we are put into school to learn the basics of writing. While there we go through each of the forms of writing available and see which fits us best. I succeeded in non-fiction but my daughter succeeds in fiction. She loves creating stories.”  
“Is this where all the stories of the universe come from?”  
“No, my dear Little Prince. We create our own stories but we also create copies of stories already told, even the fictional ones. The lesson we learn on this world is that there isn’t a story that is unable to be told. Some stories must be told or else the people will sadly go without. A story is a life on paper but you must not live your life without spontaneity. Being careful and scared your whole life makes for a terrible story.”  
“I think I understand.”  
“That is good my Little Prince. That is good.”  
“Thank you for showing me your city and allowing me on your world.”  
“Of course, it was our pleasure to host you. Hopefully, someday, a long time from now, I have the privilege to write your story Little Prince.”  
“That would be an honor, Kristain.”  
“Farewell, Little Prince.” Kristain waved as the prince took off in his spaceship. What an interesting world this was. Stories of every shape and size and not a one out of place. The Little Prince would come back here, someday, if only just to read. There were so many stories out there in the universe and he wanted to read them all.


End file.
